Just One Step - Chapter 1
by scribbling lass
Summary: A new Gate has opened in Goldstone Wood ... and it leads into the woods outside District Twelve.


1

I wake up shivering. Cold air runs up my bare arms, and my nose feels frozen. Wondering what happened to the blanket, I prop myself up and squint my eyes open.

My little sister is curled up on the other side of the bed, the blanket clutched tightly to her. I smile sleepily and push aside the annoyance at being cold.

Stiffly, I leave bed and put on my clothes from yesterday - green shirt, dark brown pants, and my leather boots. As long as I'm already awake, I might as well head to the woods.

I run a brush through my hair and braid it while I squint out the window.

The world outside is a pre-dawn gray, and covered in frost. This is not good. But, I think, if I'm quick I might be able to get a few greens before the sun rises. I pull on my father's old jacket and hurry outside.

I run to the Meadow, my breath freezes into white puffs of air as it meets the cold. Birds begin to sing in the trees as I slip under the fence. I make myself go even faster.

I retrieve a bow and arrows from a hollowed log, and make my way to where I know there will be a plentiful amount of plants.

In an hour, my two sacks are full of different greens. The sun is just visible at the horizon, through trees.

I should go. There's school today, and they will make me stay late if I don't get to my class in time. Still, I wish I could spend the whole day out here. If I had enough time, I could go to the lake. There would be plenty of ducks and geese there, I know. And I haven't gotten any of those since July.

I start to rise, planning what I will do when I return this evening, then I hear a branch crack. It's the sort of sound that comes from someone stepping on it carelessly.

The sacks drop from my hand, and I string an arrow.

My eyes dart over the trees. It couldn't be Gale - he would only just now be getting up. And he wouldn't come out to the woods before school.

Leaves rustle behind me, and I spin around. Then, out from the underbrush, comes a man. He does not see me at first, and he glances around with a confused look on his face. When he does see me, his eyes widen with a perplexed fear.

I stare back at him, poised to let loose my arrow, but hesitate to actually do it. I've never killed a person before, and I don't want to.

We stay like this for a moment, tensed and silently watching each other. I have never seen him before - his skin is dark, though not as dark as those from District Eleven. There's a slight fuzz of hair over his face that is not quite a beard.

He is the first to speak. "Um …" he says, and it loosens my mouth.

"Who are you? " I ask, trying to sound confident. But really, I'm almost afraid. He could turn me in to the Peacekeepers, if he wanted. Of course, if he did that he would have to explain what _he_ was doing on the other side of the fence.

"Well, I'm … actually, first, can I ask where I am?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "What do you mean? Don't you know?"

"That's the thing of it … I'm a bit lost … so, if you could tell me-"

"You're in District Twelve." I tell him.

The man frowns. "I've never heard of that. Is it … you are a mortal, aren't you?"

I stare at him, confused. Mortal? What can he mean? Isn't everyone mortal, capable of dieing?

"Who are you?" I ask again.

He glances at my readied arrow, then back at me. "My name is Lionheart, Childe Lionheart. I was making my way through the Wood Between … Goldstone Wood … and, my Path turned, and … somehow I ended up here."

His words are a meaningless jumble to me. I take a step back, wondering if perhaps he's insane.

The man - this Lionheart - looks frustrated. "Look," he says, coming forwards.

"Don't," I tell him. "I could shot you."

He doesn't take another step. His dark eyes move up to the trees above us, as if he is searching for something there.

I don't know what to do. "Where did you come from? Eleven? Eight?" I ask.

"Just now, I came from the Wood Between. Before that, Arpiar. … Originally, I was from Southlands."

Again, what he says means nothing to me. I consider my choices for a minute. One, I can simply let loose my arrow, and he would be dead. But I do I have actual cause to kill him? No. I mean, Lionheart - if that's his name, even - seems crazy, but I don't really know that he'll harm me or anything, or that that means he should die.

Two, I leave. Or three - we standing here talking, trying to understand each other and failing.

"Well?" Lionheart asks.

"Well, what?"

"Are you going to shoot me?"

I don't answer right away. "No," I say finally.

"I'm going to leave," I tell him, "And you're going to stay right there until I'm gone."

He nods.

I back away, stepping sacks. I'd forgotten about them. Maybe I'll come back for them later, with Gale.

My arms have been growing strained, and I long to put them down. But I don't. I keep my bow up and my eyes on him.

I take another step away, and suddenly the wood around me changes. Lionheart is gone, but it's more than that.

The trees are different, the sun has changed positions, even the air smells strange.

Fear pumps through me, and I accidentally let my arrow go. It flies through the trees, and disappears.

I scramble to pull another arrow out of the quiver, and I bring it to the bow. I have trouble holding it there.

My knees feel weak as I turn around, staring at these strange and foreign trees that have suddenly appeared around me.

A choked noise of terror escapes me, and for a minute I think I might faint. But I don't. No. Instead, I take off running into the woods in an attempt to find away out. Or, at least, something familiar.

Lionheart blinked, uncertain if he'd really just seen the girl disappear.

"Dragon's teeth," he muttered under his breath.

He rubbed his forehead and looked up. Now what was he supposed to do?

Cautiously, he took made his way through the forest. Well, this was just wonderful, wasn't? As if he wasn't enough of a Dragon kissed fool before…. Here he was, a brand new knight in training for the Prince, and he winds up in some peculiar mortal world where young girls point bows at people and jabber on about numbers.

He pushed through under brush, shivering and wishing he had some kind of coat.


End file.
